


Two Men, a Rage Monster, a God, Some Assassins, and a Baby

by dinolaur



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Superfamily, in which steve and tony adopt a baby peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinolaur/pseuds/dinolaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just your average family of superheroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Today We Learn What Noises Animals Make

**Author's Note:**

> Because superfamily is the most adorable and domestic thing ever.

Peter actually has more toys that he could ever possibly know what to do with. Sometimes Steve worries about over stimulating him, but there is no force on Earth that can stop Tony from running out and buying an entire toy store for their new son.

Pepper finally manages to convince him that three is too many and Peter can’t even play with most of these toys for years to come.

Tony isn’t the only one who’s spoiling him. All their teammates are guilty of it too. Thor brings things in from Asgard that make the others a little nervous, and Clint comes in about once a week with arms overloaded with stuffed animals.

So even though the age inappropriate toys are stored away—Steve thinks Tony might have managed to smuggle a few into his workshop and that’s probably not good—Peter still has multiple chests and boxes overflowing with toys. The playroom is almost always a disaster. There’s a lot to catch Peter’s not so steady attention span, and he’s quick to be done with one toy and ready for another.

``

Steve and Tony starting a family has in no way encouraged the other Avengers to move out of the tower. In fact, Peter’s presence might keep them even more firmly rooted there. The kid is precious, and everyone is more than willing to dump loads of attention on him.

The Avengers were a family in their own right before Peter came along, so Steve still insists on things like family dinners at least once a week. He and Clint are the best cooks, so they tend to be in charge of cooking more often than not. Tony, Thor, Natasha, and Bucky are more than willing to help out by sitting at the island counter, drinking, and being overly loud. Bruce is off somewhere with Peter, distracting the toddler until dinnertime.

A slight fumble of Clint’s has Steve covered in flour. From the cheap seats, Tony pipes up, “I’ll bet this evening would be going more smoothly for you if you could wine relax.” He mockingly holds up his glass, and Bucky chortles into his beer. Steve just rolls his eyes and continues on.

While the tenderloin is in the oven, the cooks have a few moments to relax. Clint pops his own beer and settles in on Natasha’s other side. They’re all chatting lightly until Peter comes running into the room with his adorable toddler waddle, Bruce on his heels.

“Daddy, Daddy,” the boy chirps, coming up on Tony’s chair and making grabby hands.

Tony ducks down and scoops him up. “Hey there, sport, what’d you got there?”

“Daddy, shark,” Peter declares, holding up a stuffed toy. “Dun-un.” They all stop and stare. Again Peter says, slower and more drawn out, “Dun-un. Dun-un.”

Deadpanned, Tony turns a dry stare up to Bruce, who isn’t doing a very good job of hiding a grin behind his hand. “Really,” Tony asks.

“Hey,” Bruce says defensively. “If you can honestly tell me that isn’t the first thing to cross your mind when you see a shark, I’ll correct him.”

Tony stares blankly for a long moment before turning back to Peter and saying, “That’s right, buddy. Dun-un.”

Pleased, Peter begins squirming to be placed back on the ground. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he’s running around the kitchen, chanting “Dun-un” and holding the shark up just enough that only the fin can be seen over the counter.

“Did you sit him down and give him the abridged version of Shark Week,” Clint asks.

“Hey, he retained it,” Bruce says, pulling up a chair of his own. 


	2. Clint Barton: Childhood Development Expert

It’s their anniversary. Steve is ok with just staying home, maybe having a nice dinner and hopefully getting Peter to go down to bed early, but Tony is Tony, and Tony insists that they get away for a weekend. He lays on the charm—the real charm, not that fake stuff he gives to the press and high society—and Steve is all but putty in his hands.

Tony picks a place that’s secluded and tropical, assures Fury that he will actually make an effort to be a pain in his ass if they’re interrupted for anything less than a universal crisis—not global, the others can handle global—pushes Peter into Bucky’s waiting arms, and hurries to whisk Steve off before anything can get in the way of his plans.

It’s a wonderful weekend, low key and relaxing, which are things that are pretty lacking in their lives lately. But by the end of it, while they don’t entirely want to leave, they can’t wait to get back. After all, three days without their son is kind of a long time.

Peter is exuberant at the sight of his dads walking back in the door. He claps and gurgles and reaches for them. Bucky hands him back over, and Steve leans down to kiss Peter’s forehead, holding him out so that Tony can blow a raspberry on Peter’s stomach. The toddler screams in delight.

“Was he okay,” Steve asks, smiling as Tony continues to amuse Peter by making faces.

“Course he was,” Bucky answers. “Missed you at first, but he was okay with it. Ate well, went to bed easy, and you’ll also be happy to know that I am now aware of the location of my nose, ears, and all my fingers.”

Tony plucks Peter away, asking, “Who is so smart?”

They head into the kitchen, where Clint and Bruce are throwing together some sandwiches. Tony props Peter up on the counter, holds one stern finger up as a sign for the boy to not wiggle around, and reaches over to grab a sandwich to cut up for him. “Hey, there, big man,” Clint says. “You happy your daddies are home?”

“My dads,” Peter chirps around a mouthful of ham and cheese.

Tony pulls out one of Peter’s sippy cups from the cabinet. “What do you want, buddy,” he asks and receives an answer of milk.

While Tony’s pouring the glass, Clint comments, “You know, I read that you’re really not supposed to drink milk after a year.” Clint is really good with kids. Everyone had expected him to be that uncle, the one that the kids love but the parents really wish would just go home already. And Clint certainly is, but he surprised them all by being really into the whole thing. When Steve and Tony announced that they were adopting a baby, Clint had run out and bought all kinds of child development books and read through them all.

Coulson complains that he never puts this much effort into mission assignments.

Plopping some mayo onto a slice of bread, Bruce says, “I still drink milk.”

Tony laughs and Steve lets out a squawk when Clint counters, “Well, look how fucked up you are.”

Not even looking up from spreading the mayo, Bruce says, “Oh, honey, don’t sweet talk me that way.” 


	3. "Reading" Is Fundamental

It doesn’t take them long to figure out that Peter’s a pretty smart kid. He’s not a prodigy, not like Tony was at his age, but he’s very bright and very curious. He likes to hang out in the labs and watch as Tony and Bruce do their less-volatile-than-usual experiments, and as he listens to their back and forths, he looks more interested than confused.

Steve figures somewhere down the line, this is all going to give him ulcers.

``

Peter is very good at memorization. He soaks things up and just retains them very well.

Tony and Steve—and the rest of their strange family—don’t exactly have normal jobs. It’s not the basic nine to five stuff that most people have. So usually, there’s someone in the tower who can keep an eye on Peter, even if his parents are otherwise occupied. But there are missions and meetings, and Tony doesn’t want Peter getting kidnapped—because isn’t that just so their luck—so they don’t have a normal daycare system. Steve’s not sure though if he should actually say thank goodness for the one SHIELD provides.

Peter isn’t the only child there. Other agents have kids that they bring in, whether because both parents are employed by SHIELD or just because why send the kids to a normal daycare when they could go to a super-secret government agency one.

Peter has just turned three the first time they drop him off at the daycare so that the team can go handle a swarm of giant bugs that are crawling all over DC. Steve and Tony worry through just about the whole mission, but when they get back, Peter is proud to show them his new friends, and it’s good for him to get some kind of normal interaction with children his own age, so they feel more at ease the next time he’s dropped off. Giant cats this time. Thor is very pleased to have finally found one large enough to ride on.

It’s maybe the fifth or sixth time they come to pick him up that the agent in charge of the daycare pulls them aside and says, “Captain, Mr. Stark, have you noticed anything unusual about Peter?”

And in their line of work, that could mean so many things. Steve can actually feel the blood draining from his face as he stares in horror. Tony’s voice is a little higher pitched than normal when he asks, “Unusual how?”

“Well,” the agent says. “Today was show and tell, and Peter brought in a book. He read it to the class.”

Steve and Tony blink at her.

“He read it,” the agent stresses. “Peter is only three years old. That is advanced for his age.”

Steve and Tony look at each other, then back at her. She stands there expectantly, waiting for their reactions. It’s just not the reactions she’s expecting. Tony throws his head back and laughs loudly, Steve chortling by his side.

“Oh, lady,” Tony hoots, bringing up a hand to wipe at his eyes. “Oh, you had us worried there.”

“Mr. Stark, I have been working with children for some years, and it is extremely rare that—“

“Lady, I was building circuit boards when I was four. That’s extremely rare,” Tony says, and still laughing, he wanders off to join the children in playing with blocks.

“Captain,” the agent turns to Steve, and he holds up a hand.

“Sorry about him, ma’am,” Steve says first off. “But Peter isn’t any sort of prodigy. He’s smart, but not that smart. He’s actually just memorized the book. It was _Yurtle the Turtle,_ wasn’t it? That’s his favorite, so we read it to him all the time.”

The agent actually blushes. “Oh,” she says.

From across the room, Tony lets out a squawk as Peter leads the charge of several children jumping on him. “Honey, help!” 


	4. Geeze, Aunt Pepper, When Are You Going To Get Your Life Together?

Peter loves when Pepper comes to visit. He absolutely can’t get enough of her—Tony’s pretty sure he’s got a crush on her, and if that’s true, then his son has excellent tastes—and when she has to leave, well, it’s a good thing she only flies on Tony’s private jet, or else the screaming ball of four year old clinging to her legs would make her miss her flight every time.

It’s bed time, and Peter wants Pepper to tuck him in. Pepper is happy to indulge him, trailing after the little boy clad in Avengers pajamas.

There are clothing lines based around them, as a team and as individuals. It’s mostly geared towards young boys, and Steve thinks it’s a little ridiculous, but Tony, Bruce, and Clint keep score of how much Peter wears their themed pajamas. Right now Bruce is winning, and Tony is put off by that.

Peter has bunk beds, because bunk beds are cool, and he wants to sleep in the top one tonight. Pepper scoops him up with gusto, grinning as Peter shrieks in delight, and deposits him in bed. She begins to head over to his massive collection of books, but Peter says, “Aunt Pepper, I want to talk to you.”

“Sure thing, champ,” she says, kicking off her shoes and climbing up the ladder to settle in with him.

Peter, still sitting up, folds his hands together, places them in his lap, and turns a serious expression up to her. “Now,” he says, and Pepper has to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “Let’s talk about when you plan to get married.”

“What,” Pepper cries, her tone some mix between laughter and honest surprise.

“Married,” Peter repeats, serious as a heart attack. “You want to get a husband, don’t you? Husbands make people happy.”

And Pepper sort of want to just gobble this boy up he is so sweet. Just a few days ago, Bucky and Natasha tied the knot, and Peter had been the ring bearer. Seeing his aunt and uncle getting married is Peter’s first introduction to the fact that families don’t just spontaneously happen. There are steps involved.

He continues on, “Uncle Bucky makes Aunt Natasha happy. Daddy makes Pop happy.”

“Yes, they do,” Pepper agrees. “But don’t you think I need a boyfriend before I get a husband, honey?”

Peter’s eyes widen as though he hadn’t considered that. “Ok,” he says, brightening. “Tell me what your perfect boyfriend would be.”

Chuckling, she asks, “Well, what do you want to know exactly?” She wonders for a brief moment if it would make Peter’s brain pop if she mentioned that she used to date his dad.

“What does he look like,” Peter asks. “What kind of eyebrows does he have? Is he tall? What kind of tall? Tall fat or tall medium or tall skinny?”

Pepper is sure that she’s never done anything harder than not laughing at Peter’s earnest questions. She indulges him the best she can, trying to answer what kind of tall she’d prefer or if there was a moustache involved—Peter just gives her a deadpanned look when she says she’s not sure if she wants him to have a moustache—what kind. Would he be a superhero—no. Why not—she’s had her fill of dating superheroes. Would he be smart like Daddy—not quite like Daddy. Would he be strong like Pop—only other superheroes are. Would he fight as good as Aunt Natasha—again, only other superheroes do, and even then, not really.

She supposes her perfect man would be someone that understands the kind of life she leads and isn’t threatened by a woman in such a high position of power. She’d want someone who knows that she can kick butt on her own, but also will come to help her when she’s in over her head. She wants someone who can make her laugh and who won’t try to give her strawberries. She wants someone who can handle that she runs around with superheroes just as calmly as she’s learned to.

She feels a little silly saying such things to a four year old child, but Peter looks like he’s seriously contemplating her words. Finally he says, “That sounds like Uncle Happy.”

Pepper blinks and is saved from having to immediately answer that when Tony sticks his head in the room. “Still awake,” he asks. “Peter, it is past your bed time, young man.”

And Peter turns to Tony and with that sort of endless exasperation that only children can muster, he says, “Dad, we are having a conversation.”

Tony snorts just a bit, but quickly recovers and says, “Aunt Pepper will still be here in the morning. You can finish it then. Say good night.” Peter pouts for a moment, but he relents and gives and receives his good night kisses.

“So, what was the conversation,” Tony asks, chuckling as he closes the door behind them.

“My dating life,” Pepper says. “And apparently my perfect man is Happy.” Pepper expects Tony to laugh at that too, but he looks thoughtful. “Wait, really,” she asks.

“Happy’s a good guy,” Tony starts, and Pepper gives him a pointed look. Tony doesn’t need to describe Happy’s character to her. She knows him just as well as Tony does. Tony shrugs. “You wouldn’t be the worst couple,” he says.

“Thank you, Tony,” she says. “Not the worst couple. That’s just—that’s a soaring motivation.”

“What do you want, Pep,” Tony asks. “You want me to say that you getting with Happy will create a vast landscape of glittering rainbows and cotton candy clouds with unicorns frolicking through a butterscotch forest?”

“That’s an odd mental picture,” Pepper comments.

“Peter showed us his artistic rendering of what he thinks Asgard looks like yesterday,” Tony explains. “It sticks with you.”

“Please have JARVIS scan that and sent to my office,” Pepper requests. “I need a new desktop background.”

 _“Done and done, Miss Potts,_ ” the AI answers.

When they get back to the living room, Tony is quick to tell the others about Pepper and Peter’s conversation, and amidst all the teasing, Pepper is surprised to find herself sort of actually considering it. 


	5. And What Is Your Favorite Curse Word?

The thing about little kids cursing is that while you don’t want to encourage it, it’s also sort of hilarious. Or, it’s hilarious to everyone in the world except for Steve. He’s completely scandalized when Peter repeats some swear word he’s heard any one of the grownups in the tower mutter—or shriek or snarl, as the case may be. It doesn’t help that Tony’s usually proud of Peter for using the words in the proper context.

One of Peter’s first words had been a curse. It was only a couple of months after they had adopted him, when he was still so new in their lives. They were giving him a bath, marveling at the baby sitting in the pile of bubbles, splashing and throwing toys around. Steve had been trying to wash Peter’s hair, which was a little difficult with the way the baby was squirming and trying to play with a rubber duck. Repositioning him closer to the edge of the tub had caused Peter to drop the toy. He had simply sat there looking at the duck floating upside down for a few seconds before saying plainly, “Fuck.”

“WHAT,” Steve had sort of shrieked, and Tony had rolled completely back, laughing uproariously and not caring at all how severe the glare Steve was sending him was getting.

To this day Steve tries to insist that Peter must have been saying “duck,” and they just misheard him. Tony just pats Steve’s shoulder and tells him that denial isn’t healthy.

``

Like any child, Peter loves Christmas. For years, Tony didn’t do too much celebrating of the holiday. He didn’t have much need to. Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey had been the only thing close to a family that he had, and they had their own stuff to do during the holidays.

Then the Avengers happened. Or, more specifically, Thor had happened. He’d gotten wind of this holiday, had noticed the similarities to the Asgardians’ Yule festival, and had loudly and exuberantly declared that this Christmas seemed a marvelous idea. And of course Steve being Steve had been behind that idea one-hundred percent. Coulson said something about team bonding, and that was that.

So every year since the team was founded, Stark Tower looks like Christmas threw up all over the place. Peter freaking loves it.

Being the sweetheart that he is, Peter also likes to help them with all the decorating and cooking. There’s always a plate of cookies that were very obviously decorated by a four year old child sitting on the counter.

Tomorrow is the Christmas party. Clint is busy sneaking in booze to spike the eggnog with. Bruce wonders loudly why he’s sneaking, because Steve knows he’s doing it, and even if he does disapprove, he’s totally outvoted. Plus, good luck having no booze at a party that Wolverine is attending.

Peter wants to make a gingerbread house. The kids had made one at the SHIELD daycare, and he wants to have one at home too. Tony takes that as a challenge and enlists Bruce to help him make the pieces big enough that Peter could play inside of it. Because baking is basically science, right?

Wrong. Clint fixes it though.

The gingerbread house is so big that it’s definitely a project for the entire family to get it all decorated. JARVIS is playing Christmas music, and, as she’s stuffing a large finger full of icing into her mouth, Natasha declares that they’re all going to be sick by the time this is done. They’ve run out of M&Ms for the left side of the house, and Peter toddles off after Bucky to help bring some more. They rip into several bags, dumping them into popcorn bowls, and Peter says, “I want to carry one.”

With a ruffling of the boy’s hair, Bucky hands over the smaller bowl and says, “Here you go, champ.”

They’re almost back to the house when Peter stumbles a bit and loses his grip on the bowl. Bucky sees it in slow motion, but he doesn’t move fast enough to catch the bowl before it overturns. The loud clattering draws everyone’s attention, and they just stand there staring as a flood of red and green candies coats the floor.

Standing in the midst of it all is Peter, who looks around, throws his hands up to his hips in an exaggerated fashion that can only be done by a child, and says, “Oh, shit.”

“Peter,” Steve squawks, and just about everyone else shoves their fists to their mouths to keep from snickering. 


	6. Given The Mess That Is Our Lives, We Should Have Expected This

Trying to decide where to send Peter to kindergarten requires so much more discussion than it really should. Because Peter isn’t a regular child. He’s the adopted son of Iron Man and Captain America, and everybody knows it. Pepper does her best to keep pictures of the Stark-Rogers family out of the press, but there’s always a couple that get leaked out, and Tony and Steve do go on outings in the city with Peter. People see and know them.

They have enemies who would have no problems using a child to get to them, and not just of the supervillain variety. Tony’s one of the richest men in the world. There’s just about no ransom he couldn’t pay if some wackos managed to get a hold of Peter.

So the question is, do they send him to some super high class academy with extremely high security but it also puts a target on his head, or do they enroll him in an average school under Steve’s name or even some made up identity—helpfully provided by Fury, because even he is charmed by Peter, whether he admits to it or not—where he isn’t known so well but also has no additional security?

Steve doesn’t like the idea of spending all that extra money on an academy—he still uses handfuls coupons every time he goes grocery shopping—but eventually his worry wins out, and they decide on the academy and the security.

Peter likes it there. It might only be kindergarten, but the school is prestigious, and they treat Peter’s brightness well. Tony figures anything has to be easier than a kid like he was, too smart for his own good.

Because the school has plenty of money to spare, the children get to go on lots of interesting field trips. They go to museums, planetariums, and all sorts of things. And that’s great until one particular field trip does a pretty good job of changing up everything.

Peter comes home jabbering on about all the neat things that they saw that day. He’s talking for hours straight, walking his dads through just about every second of the trip. They only stop him when he adds, “And I got a bug bite. Look. And then Harry said that—“

“Bug bite,” Steve interrupts, snatching the hand that Peter is showing them. There’s a red bump there.

“Steve, really,” Tony says dryly.

“Yeah, Pop, really,” Peter repeats.

Steve offers a stern glare to first Peter and then Tony. “What if it gets infected?”

“I’m sure Peter didn’t immediately go rub his hand in dirt,” Tony says. “Peter, did you go rub your hand in dirt or on a subway seat?”

“Nope,” Peter assures him.

Tony nods. “Kids get bug bites, scraped knees, and even broken bones sometimes. He’s fine, Steve. So, who wants tacos for dinner?”

“Me,” Peter cries, and runs off to the kitchen with Tony, Steve on their heels insisting that he at least slap some Neosporin and a band aid on it. After Steve has applied a Human Torch band aid on the back of Peter’s hand, dinner is ready and they all settle in to eat.

Almost as soon as he’s finished eating, Peter pipes up that he’s tired and can he just take his shower in the morning. “Big day, huh, little man,” Tony asks, scooping Peter up to bring him to bed. He’s passed out before Tony finishes the first page of his storybook.

``

The next morning at breakfast, Peter is sitting at the table, half asleep in his cereal. He’s only spoken briefly, and it was some lament about the presence of the morning sun. “He’s going to be a great teenager,” Bruce comments around his toast.

Peter sort of half mutters something completely unintelligible and reaches for the carton of orange juice. He pours a glass without spilling—impressive—and goes to set the carton down. Only, when he lifts his hand back up, it’s still there. Frowning, Peter drops it to the table top again, but the same thing happens. Across from him, Bruce arches a brow.

“Dad,” Peter calls, and Tony looks over his shoulder to see Peter holding up the carton, only, his fingers aren’t touching it. It’s just his palm, but the carton is stuck there.

“What the,” Tony starts, walking over and trying to take the carton from Peter. It doesn’t budge. “Jesus Christ,” Tony snaps, and he turns on Bruce when the other man doesn’t manage to hold in a snicker. “Did you do this,” Tony asks. “Are you and Clint in the middle of another one of those pranking feuds?”

“Me and Clint no,” Bruce says, holding his hands up defensively. “But I have noticed Natasha lurking around more often than is normal lately. I’d take it up with those two.”

Tony grumbles some choice words that really aren’t appropriate for Peter’s ears before dragging his son off to find something that can remove the glue without ripping any of Peter’s skin off.

``

There are some Doom Bots trashing Central Park that afternoon when Peter’s school lets out. Tony opens up a channel to remind Maria Hill that someone needs to go pick the boy up and bring him to daycare. She promptly tells him to fuck off, but when the team swings by, Peter is there waiting for them.

Although, Tony thinks, considering they just fought off a few hundred Doom Bots, they really don’t deserve the sight that greets them.

The children are all standing around, staring up at the ceiling. The agent in charge is standing on a chair, trying to stretch enough to reach Peter, who is standing suspended upside down from the ceiling. The children are all fairly calm, which makes Tony wonder how long Peter’s been stuck to the ceiling like that.

“I want—I want to blame you for this somehow,” Tony says, and Clint, who is poking his head over Thor’s shoulder, knows to offendedly answer, “Hey!”

Steve is just about beside himself, and he nearly falls into hysterics when Peter just calmly waves and says, “Hi, Pop.”

Once they manage to get him down from the ceiling, they rush Peter over to the Baxter Building for Reed to run some tests. Eventually everything comes back and tells them that there’s something funny going on with Peter’s DNA. It’s morphed, and Peter cheers over Steve’s fretting that this is the coolest thing in the world because now he has superpowers.

``

Having a normal child is difficult enough. Having a child whose DNA is half spider is even worse. Peter can literally get everywhere now, up all the walls and ceilings, over things. Just all over the place. And there are spider webs everywhere from where he shoots them around. There are broken vases and toppled over lamps and bookcases.

“Just a bug bite, you said,” Steve likes to remind Tony. “All kids get them, you said.”

Tony really wishes it was possible to banish Captain America to the couch for the night.


	7. My Super Secret Spy Assassin Aunt And Uncle Are Cooler Than Yours

Clint’s being good with kids thing has kind of been part of the Avengers’ saving grace for a long time now. Every once and a while—usually after they’ve caused some really significant property damage defending the city—Fury throws them at some kind of charity or the like, and really, what warms people’s heart more than kids?

Puppies, probably. But kids work pretty well too.

Besides, last time Fury had them do an appearance at an animal shelter, Thor adopted everything. They’re still not sure what happened to the porcupine.

But the matter at hand. Clint is really good with kids. They just flock to him. So for those who aren’t so good with children—Tony, Bruce, Natasha, and Thor until they had finally gotten him to understand that human children aren’t as sturdy as Asgardian ones—it’s nice to just sit back, make the appearance, and not really have to do anything.

The kids at these various orphanages or schools or hospitals really love Clint, so he makes it a point to pop in even when Fury isn’t glaring the team down, often with Steve in tow. Once they adopted Peter, Steve doesn’t go on his own time as much, seeing as he has his hands beyond full at the Tower.

Peter is playing with a tub of Legos when Clint comes back from one of his rounds. Glad to see his uncle, Peter requests his help making a Helicarrier. Clint thinks Fury should check this thing out. The rainbow design would really make a good impression.

Clint is half buried in the box looking for spare helicopter blades when Peter asks, “Uncle Clint, do you like those other kids you play with more than me?”

Clint pops back out and looks over at the boy. Peter doesn’t look like he’s upset or jealous, just curious. Clint reaches over and ruffles Peter’s hair. “No, buddy,” he answers honestly. “I like those kids, but you’re my nephew. I love you.”

Peter swats Clint’s hand away and then hurries to school his expression to something serious again. “Good,” he nods. “Because you shouldn’t.”

That, Clint decides, sounds vaguely threatening. He should maybe mention to Steve and Tony that Peter might have been spending too much time with Natasha since this whole spider powers thing started up.

``

Peter remains not-so-secretly convinced that Natasha also has some kind of spider themed superpowers. No one really wants to tell him exactly what black widows do to have gotten that name and why Natasha took it up. That’s a little heavy for a five year old. But he’s seen the way she fights, with the acrobatics and the jumping on people, and he is completely convinced that she’s part spider too.

And although she can do some pretty amazing jumps, Peter wonders why she can’t hang from ceilings like he can or shoot webs. He muses aloud once that it might be because he’s better than her, and Bucky thinks that Peter is so, so lucky that he’s a child. Because the way his wife was looking at him, if Peter had been even a teenager, her nephew or not, Natasha would have handed his ass to him on a silver platter.

Natasha really does love Peter, but the ways she interacts with him, the others are left wondering if she’s just that bad with children or if it’s a life philosophy of never sheltering anyone about anything. The others pretty much always let Peter win. It’s pretty dickish to always beat a little kid at videogames or racing.

Of course, with Peter’s new spider powers, they don’t have to hold back as much to make it seem like an even game. Tony doesn’t like that. He wasn’t expecting to have Peter beat him at basketball until the kid was almost twenty. And that would only be because by then Tony would be really old. Like in his late sixties. Gross.

That’s not to say that Natasha never gives the kid a break. It’s just that she actually makes Peter really work for a win. There’s only one time that Peter accidentally beats her. He learned this game at school that the kids simply call Ninja. The basic idea is that they each take turns making karate chops or light kicks at each other, and the defending kid tries to dodge. If they get tagged, that limb is out. Four out limbs means you’re dead.

Peter has beaten Clint soundly into the ground, and the archer called mercy, so Natasha stepped in. She’s let herself go down to just an arm left, having tagged Peter’s right leg and left arm. Peter goes to make a jab at her and accidentally shoots a web. Natasha blinks down at the sticky stuff that’s stuck to her forearm. “I win,” Peter declares, despite the unfair use of powers. “I beat you at Ninja!” It’s a very big deal, because Peter knows that his aunt’s specialty is hand-to-hand combat.

Natasha blinks, peels away the web, and says far too seriously, “Whatever. That’s what guns are for.” All the color drains out of Peter’s face, and his eyes are beyond comically wide.

“Nat,” Clint scolds, patting Peter on the back lightly.

“If you stab my son with a needle, I am kicking you out of this house,” Tony snaps from across the room.

At the mention of stabbing, Peter looks about ready to cry. 


	8. A Day At The Beach

Part of the fun of the weather turning warm again is everyone packing up to head to Tony’s place in the Hamptons. There’s plenty of room, and the beach is beautiful. Peter is very excited when they tell him they’ll be spending a long weekend out there, and the boy insists that he go pack his own bag. Tony waves him off, and Steve yells after him to bring the bag down so he can check it.

Peter is efficient in his packing. Or efficient might not be the right word. Quick. He’s back downstairs only a few minutes later, dragging a duffle behind him. He deposits it at Steve’s feet and stands proudly waiting to receive his thumbs up for a job well done.

Steve digs around for a bit, doing a mental inventory of shorts and t-shirts, bathing suits and shoes. It looks like almost everything is in order, minus one glaring item. “Peter, you didn’t pack any underwear,” Steve says.

The answer isn’t exactly expected. Peter somehow manages—from watching Tony, no doubt—to look down his nose at Steve despite his father’s vastly superior height. There’s a level of indignation there that’s actually pretty impressive for a five year old to muster up. “I have no plans to wear underwear,” Peter says loftily. “That’s just one more layer between me and the world.”

Sitting beside him, Tony spits his coffee all over Steve. Across the room, Clint is choking he’s laughing so hard, Bucky slapping him on his back a few times. “That’s some ace parenting, Stark,” Bucky comments with a grin that only stretches when Steve turns an unimpressed glare at him.

“If Pete’s learning by example here, that’s information I was really good to not know,” Clint says, still gasping a little bit.

``

Unfortunately, the weather isn’t picturesque the entire weekend, and it rains all day on Friday. Everyone is a little bit bummed, but the weather is supposed to clear up overnight, and if not, surely Steve could call up the Xavier mansion, bat his eyes and put on that All-American smile, and Storm will fix the problem. Steve thinks that’s cheating, but he’s overruled.

So with rain pouring down, they all settle in the TV room and flip channels until they land on History’s _America: The Story of Us_. Steve and Bucky insist that they stop there, as they really like the program, and this is the Wild West episode.

Unfortunately for them, while it is a good show, everyone else has seen this, and it’s really hard to have that many people in a room and not be talking. When it gets to the point that Tony, Bruce, and Clint are providing their own commentary for the show, Bucky and Steve actually get up and go into the kitchen to watch in there.

“Sourpusses,” Natasha calls after them. Peter giggles from where he’s perched on Tony’s lap.

They keep the program on, because by now this is just fun. Every once and a while, they make an extra loud comment at the popsicles’ expense, but they don’t get a rise.

Then, the narrator informs them that, “ _In the time that it takes to reload a gun, a warrior on horseback can ride 300 yards and fire 20 arrows.”_

In the TV room, they just sit there, because no one has any comment to say to that. Then, a couple of seconds later, from the kitchen, they hear, “Bullshit.”

The others all sit there, staring back over their shoulders, until Peter pops up and says, “Umm, Pop said a bad word.” 


	9. Uncle Hulk Smash, But Never Little Spiders

In the years since the accident, Bruce has gotten very good at controlling the Other Guy. At first, any little thing would set him off, but he worked hard, separated himself from society, and all but forced himself to keep a lid on the thing. It was so difficult. He does his best to present a calm exterior, but really, he’s angry a lot of the time about a lot of different things.

He’s better at controlling it now, and with Tony’s help, he actually learned to really accept the Hulk. He’d thought Tony was crazy at first, trying to get him to unleash the Hulk at completely inappropriate times. But it had really struck Bruce that Tony actually believed that the Hulk would fight alongside the team when the world needed them. He believed that despite all evidence to the contrary.

Accidental Hulk outs are a very rare thing nowadays. Bruce can turn it on on a dime when things are getting hectic, and similarly, the Hulk lets Bruce back in control when things have calmed down without much of a fight.

Bruce mostly tries to keep the Hulk under wraps when at the Tower and out in the city. Really, it just doesn’t do to have a giant rage monster stomping around. Really, it’s mostly about the size thing. The Hulk is a giant, and New York is really cramped. Also, rich as he is, Tony doesn’t like replacing walls and windows and the microwave every week if it can be helped.

Then Peter comes along, and Bruce is absolutely terrified of going green around the kid because the Hulk doesn’t always consider his own strength, and God, what if he ever hurt that sweet child?

So, while Peter likes the Hulk, he’s never actually seen him except on news reports. And again, it’s Tony who insists that Bruce is being ridiculous. And it’s not that Bruce doesn’t appreciate that Tony feels confident that the Hulk interacting with his son would be perfectly safe, he’s just not taking any chances with this one.

That all goes out the toilet one day when Tony and Bruce take Peter out to the park. They had very honestly been at Tony’s office working on some new projects while the rest of the team suffered under Steve’s strict training regiment, and yes, Tony is in charge of the company, but he still has deadlines to meet that Pepper will murder him for overlooking. So he had grabbed Bruce and Peter and booked it. They had finished up a lot faster than anticipated. It’s just one of those days when all the final pieces fall into place easily. And, since they’re already out and missing most of the training, Tony suggests that they just make a day of it. Peter cheers, and Bruce knows Steve is going to hand them their asses next time. But there is a really good pretzel stand in the park, and, well, it’s the small things, isn’t it?

It’s a nice time. Peter rides the carousel, and pouts when Tony snaps at him to not climb all over the thing. They’re trying very hard to not broadcast that the Stark-Rogers kid has spider superpowers. Peter’s not exactly making that easy for anyone. He doesn’t understand why he has to hide his cool powers when the rest of his family gets to broadcast them.

So he wants to climb around on things, and since Tony firmly says no to climbing the machinery, Peter leads them over towards the pond where there’s some rock formations that he can climb to his little heart’s content. And everything seems fine. Tony’s got one eye locked onto the kid while he’s updating Bruce on the latest email thread he’s had going with Jane Foster about building their own Bifröst. It’s a long time crack dream of theirs that they’re only a couple of shots away from actually going through with on the next karaoke night.

In Asgard, magic and science are pretty similar, but Thor is a warrior who isn’t really interested in the mechanics of either. So Tony is bitching about how that makes getting actual equations mapped out difficult when Peter, running around on top of the rocks, slips and starts to tumble down. “Shit,” Tony cries, and Bruce is already in motion.

It isn’t just anger that makes him Hulk out. It’s an adrenaline rush too. And so, in hardly a second, he’s huge and green and leaping into the air to catch the screaming boy. Peter is shaking when Hulk drops back down by Tony, who scrambles to pull his son from the Hulk’s arms. The Hulk’s heart is racing, and Peter doesn’t look like he’s hurt, just surprised, and he can’t help but snap—which for the Hulk is more of a roar—“Little spider need be careful!”

And Peter turns, takes one look at the Hulk, and bursts into tears.

Peter is scared of him.

The Hulk feels like his heart is being ripped out. Tony is holding Peter close, and the look he turns up to the Hulk is apologetic as he tries to soothe his son. But Peter is hysterical, and the Hulk did that. He made that happen. And so he turns on his heel, jumping away as far as he can, ignoring Tony yelling after him.

``

It’s three days before Clint manages to catch up to him in the Yukon.

“You always pick the most ungodly places to do your sulking,” the archer says, plopping down beside Bruce. If he came from a tree or the roof, Bruce isn’t positive. But it definitely wasn’t ground level.

“Fewer people, fewer problems,” Bruce says.

Clint fixes him with a dry look. “You’ve been living in New York City, consistently, for the past seven years.” Bruce doesn’t answer. They sit in silence, Clint shivering beside him, for a few moments before Clint gets bored and elbows him. “So are we done now,” he asks. “Can we please go back to decent society?”

“No one is forcing you out here,” Bruce says, wiping off his glasses. Really, there’s no point to wearing them right now. The sleet just builds right back up.

“Well, I’m not going back without you, and are you really so cruel that you’d make me sit out here for longer than necessary? Wait, no. Don’t answer that,” Clint says. “Just, come on, Jolly Green.”

“I’m not going back,” Bruce insists.

“So, run this by me. Peter slips while playing, you Hulk out and save him from broken bones and a head injury or something even worse, and instead of being a normal person and feeling relief that your nephew is all right, you run away to freaking Canada to—I don’t know what they do up here—hunt moose and drink maple syrup. That right,” Clint asks.

“It’s not that,” Bruce says, drawing his knees up under his chin.

“Then what is it?”

“You didn’t see Peter’s face,” Bruce mutters. “He was absolutely terrified of me.”

Clint is silent, his expression hard and unreadable. “Bruce,” he says a moment later, and he actually uses Bruce’s name, so Bruce can’t help but pull his eyes away from the forest and actually look at Clint. “Come home,” Clint continues, and his tone is more serious than what he uses in real life or death situations. “Come home and talk to Peter. Get this all straightened out.”

Bruce really doesn’t want to, because he can’t face that, but Clint is relentless and finally gets Bruce to cave when he threatens to call in Natasha. When they had first become acquainted, Bruce knows the Hulk scared Natasha as well as she can be scared of something, but now that she’s 99.999% positive that the Hulk won’t kill her on a whim, well, let’s just say the roles have reversed quite severely.

Clint bitches all the way up to the common floor of Stark Tower that Bruce is just dragging his feet. Bruce thinks this is something like torture, making him come back here when he’s just going to get the same reaction from Peter again, and he really just can’t take that.

The living room goes silent as they enter, and Bruce hasn’t felt this awkward around a group of people in a while. Clint slips from Bruce’s side to go stand over by Natasha and Bucky. Tony reaches down and picks up Peter, who buries his face in his father’s neck at seeing Bruce—oh, yeah, that’s what heart break feels like—and Steve pats his back.

Tony walks over, one hand rubbing soothing circles under Peter’s t-shirt. “Hey, pal, look, Uncle Bruce is back,” Tony says. Peter doesn’t respond. “Aren’t you going to say hi?” The boy just sort of shrugs. Tony shoots Bruce an apologetic grimace and tries again. “Pete, I think Uncle Bruce would like it if you said hi.”

Bruce’s chest feels like it’s being crushed, and he cuts in, “No, Tony, it’s ok. He doesn’t have to talk to me. I just—I’m sorry I scared him.”

And Peter’s head suddenly pops up, and he says, “I’m not scared.”

Bruce pauses, blinking owlishly. “It’s all right,” he says slowly, feeling a little confused. “The Hulk is scary and—“

“I’m not scared of the Hulk,” Peter insists. “I like the Hulk.” To further his point, Peter holds up his elbow for Bruce to see where he has a Hulk band aid plastered.

“You were crying at the park the other day when you saw him,” Tony says, but he has this odd little smile, one he gets when he’s leading a conversation.

Peter looks sheepish and buries his head against Tony’s neck again. “I was bad,” he mutters.

“Bad,” Bruce echoes.

Peter nods. “Yeah, I must’ve been, huh,” he says. “Because you go Hulk when you get angry, and I was on the rocks, and I tripped, and you went Hulk.”

“Peter,” Bruce stammers. “Peter, did you—do you think I was angry with you?”

Peter nods and wraps his arms tighter around his dad. “I’m sorry, Uncle Bruce.”

“Oh my God,” Bruce cries, and Tony just opens his arms when Bruce goes to take Peter from him and wrap him in a tight hug. Peter clings to him. “No, Pete, no, I wasn’t angry with you at all. I just got scared when you fell and that turned me into the Hulk.”

“You do it when you’re scared too,” Peter asks.

“Sometimes,” Bruce says, running a hand over Peter’s messy hair.

“You really weren’t mad?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Ok,” Peter says, curling up as much as he can in Bruce’s arms. “Please don’t run away any more, ok, Uncle Bruce?”

“Or else you’ll have two spiders coming after you,” Natasha pipes up, and Peter and Bruce look over to see that oddly serene expression she wears where the crazy only just slightly shines out from her eyes. It’s actually the most terrifying expression Natasha has.

She turns a wink at Peter, and the boy adds, “And her kinds of spiders bite and kill boys, so watch it.” 


End file.
